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  • Writer's pictureAmanda Jade Fiorino

Living Ceremony

Sometimes the most exquisite ceremony is following the erotic and sensual pull of each moment as it gently wraps its brittle-starred tendrils around your heart.

Feeling the way the day-star invites you to peel your garments off, letting your skin be kissed by the fluxing wind. Letting your labia breathe, and your nipples tighten from the incoming rain.

Stretching you’re spine along undulational stone hills while quaking leaves serenade the ancestral drums of your ears with dappled percussion.

Then feeling the sound of your belly grumble in longing, and relishing in the sweet juice of an apple massaging your tastebuds with the evolution of their own lineage. Generations of fruited ones traveling long distances from their rooted origins.

Then sensing the winding wash calling out to your feet, electrifying the muscle of your imagination. Ground up Rock people beckoning you to wander the corridors of a shapeshifting terrascape where rusted cans are being consumed by the slowww crawling roots of Juniper people.

Or maybe you’re called to the soft cushion of your couch where the light caresses your face just so, and the floral aroma of petaled ones wafting across the threshold of your window lulls you into titillating dreamscapes.

Our lives are holy enmeshments where the simple complexity of our presence can be a living ceremony if/when we offer our attention to the worlds enfolding wonder and unfolding mystery.

Fox is living ceremony. Lichen is living ceremony. Snake slowly waking from warmth of dawn is living ceremony. Flies swarming a drainpipe is living ceremony. Ravens plucking delicious treats from the beds of trucks left unattended is living ceremony.

There’s an edge here dipping in and out of site-a sharp disturbance that can rattle sensibilities, and invoke protest in service to our thriving. That survival, in all its possible harshness, can also be living ceremony.

Adaptability, cunning, and resilient craftiness can grow and burst from the bones of our life, and carve red rivers across our dreams.

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